Are You Ready to Quit Smoking?

Maybe how I quit can help you

It was 1985. I was twenty-six years old. Five months pregnant. I needed to quit smoking before giving birth.

Two years earlier, after the birth of my second child by Cesarean Section, my lungs were so filled up that I need a respiratory physiotherapist to help clear my lungs.

A doctor also told me that my lungs were in terrible shape for someone my age. And if I didn’t quit smoking, I wouldn’t have a long life.

Besides my health issues with smoking, hospitals no longer had designated smoking areas inside. Patients had to go outside. Which would’ve made my hospital stay very difficult.

I no longer wanted to smoke. Yet I feared I couldn’t quit.

I had tried to quit several times but had never succeeded for more than a few days. But this time I needed to get serious about successfully quitting.

The answer appeared one evening during a TV commercial when I learned about an upcoming “Time to Quit” program, sponsored by the Canadian Cancer Society and Welfare Canada.

It was a free program to assist those twenty-five to forty-five to stop smoking. It sounded perfect for me. Just what I’d been waiting for.

The program consisted of three one-half-hour television shows, hosted by the actor William Shatner, my childhood idol, who had played Captain Kirk on the TV show Star Trek.

What a strange coincidence my childhood hero would guide me where I’d never gone before… into the world of an ex-smoker.

From the pharmacy in town, I picked up the package containing a self-help booklet with information on strategies to help practice, achieve, and maintain non-smoking behaviours.

The program used cognitive and behavioural approaches based on a health belief model that a smoker had to believe he or she is susceptible to the negative consequences of smoking and that quitting is the perfect choice.

That TV show led up to National Quit Day, January 27, 1985. The date for every participant to quit.

Week one was the easiest: keeping track of every cigarette I smoked and writing down the reason why.

I kept the booklet and pen next to my pack of cigarettes and lighter, and every time I lit up, I listed the reason for doing so. Did I want it? Need it? There was no more automatic unconscious behaviour. No more mindless smoking, as I’d always done.

During the second week, I followed the instructions and cut my smoking in half and had to question even more if I really needed that cigarette. I had to dig deeper into if I could do without it.

Each time I reached for a smoke, I had to stop and think and ask myself if I could skip this one, or maybe wait five or ten minutes longer before acting on my urge.

Often, I compromised and smoked half a cigarette.

The third week became even more difficult, as I cut down to half of what I’d smoked the previous week, and counted down my last days as a smoker.

I feared how bad withdrawal would be.

For ten years, I’d lived in a cloud of smoke. Cigarettes, my friend and constant companion since I was fifteen years old. I thought about that young miserable girl I’d been. That girl who’d played Janis Joplin albums and cried and wrote poetry while I longed for my faraway boyfriend Will.

I needed to let that sad girl go. Needed to choose life. For my husband and children, too.

Over the previous two weeks, I had broken some of my hardest smoking patterns. I had stopped lighting up when I got up during the night to pee. Stopped lighting up as soon as my eyes opened.

Quit day approached, and I worried about failing. Thought about calling it quits. To smoke all the cigarettes I wanted.

I didn’t know how I’d survive being around all my smoker friends. Weight gain worried me. But deep down, I knew quitting was best.

We’d also save a lot of money.

The advice about quitting was to prepare for a stressful couple of days. To take some time for yourself. The program cheered us on by telling us smokers/soon-to-be-ex-smokers that we deserved it.

It also suggested walking away from situations that gave us the urge to smoke and avoiding places where we might see or smell cigarettes.

With it being winter and Mike not out sea scalloping, we arranged for my mother to keep the kids for the first forty-eight hours, the toughest first days of going without cigarettes when I’d crave them most, needing that quick reward of nicotine.

Mike was my support. He was to help me not give in and “have just one.” Mike was to keep me strong.

I was as prepared as possible for irritability, anger, sadness, and difficulty concentrating to come. Anticipating the roller coaster of emotions. Being miserable, crying, and desperate for a cigarette.

Getting through minute by minute was the focus of the day. Hour by hour.

I was worse the next day.

Mike lost patience with me. In anger, he marched into the kitchen, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the cupboard, stomped back into the living room, threw the package at me, and told me to smoke.

My anger met his anger, and I screamed at him and threw the cigarettes back at him. Determined to never go through such agony again.

One day turned into another. Days turned into weeks. Weeks to months.

I had to find a replacement for the habit of always reaching for a smoke. I’d smoked while doing just about everything. Now I nibbled on apple slices. Kept lollipops and Life Saver candy near me, the latter seeming quite appropriate.

Sometimes I chewed gum until my jaws ached.

I continually thought I was forgetting something. I’d been so accustomed to always knowing where my cigarettes were and making sure I took them with me wherever I went. It was weird to be so free.

But one thing was clear, I needed to know that at any time I could change my mind and choose to smoke. I kept my last few packs of cigarettes on top of the kitchen cupboards, where I hoped the effort to climb up to get them would give me time to change my mind.

Quitting smoking was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But one of the most rewarding.

Each day got better.

Quitting also helped my self-confidence and reminded me I was moving in the right direction. Choosing life over death.

I’ve been an ex-smoker now for thirty-seven years.

That program only happened that one year. I don’t know how successful it was, but for me, it was life-changing.

I believe that if I could do it, anyone can.

Maybe the steps I followed can help you to quit. Let me know what you think. Or have you succeeded at quitting smoking some other way?

Here are the basic steps I followed:

The first week smoke as usual. Keep a notebook by your smokes and write down every reason for smoking each cigarette. Do you really need it? If you need it, why? Is it just habit, part of your routine?

Also, think back to when you first started smoking. Think about why you wanted to smoke. Think about how you emotionally felt at that time. What were your reasons to start smoking?

Focus on why you want to quit smoking. List the benefits.

Week 2, cut your smoking in half. Again, keep track of the reasons for each cigarette.

Week 3, cut the amount you smoke in half again. By now you are breaking old habits. You are more conscious of why you are doing what you’re doing.

At the end of 21 days, you are ready to quit. You’ve prepared yourself for it. You have a plan on how to get through the withdrawal symptoms in the first 24 to 72 hours.

By the end of the next few weeks, the withdrawal effects are mainly psychological. By now you’ve learned new ways of coping besides smoking.

Keep reminding yourself that you can do this! You can succeed! You have the ability to change. You can find new ways to cope with stress, etc.

I wish you well.

BARBARA CARTER is a visual artist and writer with a focus on healing from childhood trauma, alcohol addiction, and living her best authentic life.